“You have until tonight,” Rylan said, his smile returning.

“Solene has already bought the paint for the guest room.”

He turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the paper and the pen on the counter.

I stood there for a long time, listening to the hum of the old refrigerator.

My hand was still resting on the paper.

As I pulled my hand away, my fingers brushed against a small smudge on the back of the document.

It looked like a faint purple ink stamp, mostly rubbed away.

I turned the paper over.

On the very back, in the bottom corner, was a faint imprint of a notary stamp.

It was faded, but I could make out the name of a local notary public.

Why would a draft document have a notary stamp on the back?

My mind began to race.

I remembered a phone call I had received at the clinic three weeks ago.

A woman from a title company had called asking for Calla Vance.

She had asked if I had completed the “verification of occupancy” form.